


Nuts about the boy

by MrsRidcully



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Wolfhound, A squirrel with anger issues, AU, Druid Stiles, Good Alpha Peter Hale, Husbands Peter and Chris, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, This is pure crack, contents may contain nuts, learning things about teenage werewolves you may not want to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRidcully/pseuds/MrsRidcully
Summary: a mad warlock cast a spell and transformed my mate..... Or..... where did that Irish wolfhound come from?... A  series of unfortunate events as told by Peter Hale
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 37
Kudos: 357
Collections: Secret Steter BFFs





	Nuts about the boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [covarla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/covarla/gifts).



> This is what happens when I let my muse have too much sugar...I may have drifted from my giftees prompts but I really hope you enjoy this strange silly tale.

“To be fair Christopher, I told you explicitly - don’t pick an argument with him.” Peter focused on the road, but still heard the irritated huff from the back seat. 

“Don’t use that tone with me, it's not my fault you’re in this situation,” Peter snapped, one hand on the wheel, the other scrolling through google maps. “OK ,says there’s an On-Call Druid in the next town. I’m sure they will be able to fix it. Mind you I have to say, the breed suits you.” 

A low, menacing growl came from the back seat and Peter risked peeking in the rearview mirror. A set of icy blue eyes stared back, and the grey wiry hair around the muzzle bristled in irritation, “Well, it could have been worse. He could have turned you into a Pomsky.” The Irish wolfhound glared flatly back at him. 

  
“What were you thinking challenging him like that? I had it under control,” Peter said. The hound made a face. “I did,” Peter grumbled under his breath. 

  
Peter finally found the storefront; pots hung from every available space, filled to overflowing with various plants and flowers. “Come on, Fido. Let's see if this druid can help us.” 

The store was an eclectic mix of hedge-witch meets Ikea, and Peter wasn’t sure where to look, let alone stand. “Umm hello? Anyone here?” 

A head appeared amid the myriad of clutter in the back of the store. "Give me a minute. I have a pixie situation.” 

Peter shared a look with the dog, who was currently more interested in sniffing his rear end. 

Much muttering and cursing drifted out from the back of the store and then there was a soft pop. A young man stood up, dusting himself off. “Sorry about that, got to make sure the little terrors have something constructive to do, or they’ll end up re arranging the shop.” The young druid cast a look over Peter and Chris. “So how can I help you? I haven’t seen an Alpha wolf in town for quite some time, you're not here to cause trouble are you? Because seriously, I only just got the store looking good after the last asshole tried to cause problems.” 

The young druid looked no more than twenty, but power radiated off him in waves. Peter could see the ripples in the air around the young man. He held his power close, ready to unleash if he felt Peter was a threat. 

Holding his hands out, palms facing up, Peter got straight to the point. “My husband and I had a run in with a warlock out in the woods. The man was snooping around our property and when we approached him he lashed out with magic. Christopher got caught in the blast.” 

The druid cocked his head to the side, his honey eyes seeming to look inward. Peter stood still not wanting to startle him. He swayed slightly, only for a moment, then he was looking at Peter with shrewd eyes. “You’ve come to claim the Hale land. About bloody time too.” 

The druid looked down at the dog and smirked. The great beast thumped his tail in return and stood forward to sniff the druid’s hand, “I’m Stiles, Druid-at-call and all-round fix it guy. I'll help If I can.”   
Peter let out a relieved breath, “Thank you.” 

While Stiles stretched his arms out to pat Chris, Peter could see the myriad of tattoos that covered Stiles’s skin. Some were runes that Peter recognized, some were not. One muscled forearm was covered in a ring of shadowed trees, the full moon hovering above them. “Ah I see.” Stiles voice was sympathetic as he stroked the dog’s head, “Yes I’m sure he is sorry about that,” Stiles answered the dog’s unheard question.   
  
“So can you help us? Can you change him back?” Peter was trying very hard not to look at where the great lump of a dog was sprawled, licking his nads, “Seriously, Christopher. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. You don’t see me doing that when I shift.” Peter fidgeted uncomfortably under the dog’s knowing gaze. “OK, fine, yes, as a teenager it was kind of a thing, but you know – teenagers.” 

“Um OK, so first off, Werewolf teens lick their balls? Kind of gross but kind of hot, and secondly? Sorry but no, I can’t help with the dog problem.” It looked like Stiles was trying very hard not to laugh. 

  
“Why not? Is it money? I can pay. Or do you have something against werewolves?” Peter demanded. 

“No. If this dog was your husband? Sure I could probably fix this. But Hagrid here has only ever been, well, Hagrid. And I like werewolves just fine, my best friend’s a were.” Stiles was giggling now, unable to help it, the look of shock on Peter's face sending him off into gales of laughter.   


“He’s not my husband?” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasted all those dog jokes.” The wolfhound sat grinning as Peter addressed him. “I don’t suppose you do know where Christopher is?” 

The great shaggy head nodded and Hagrid barked out a rapid flow of sounds. The young druid listened, then grinned from ear to ear. “It seems you left him quite irate up a tree back in the preserve.”   


Peter gasped. “Christopher is going to kill me.” He dropped down to kneel in front of the dog. “I’m sorry. I really did think you were Chris. I can’t believe I kidnapped a dog by mistake again.” 

  
Stiles threw back his head and laughed brightly. “We’re going to come back to the fact you’ve done this before, but first let’s go find your mate.” 

  


Peter stood speechless for a moment, which in all honesty wasn’t his fault. With his head thrown back laughing and with the rich scents that Stiles was throwing off, Peter may have been a little dumbstruck. No one had captured his wolf’s attention like this, not since Chris did. Maybe once he got Chris back safe and sound Peter could revisit this - you know, when his husband wasn’t stuck out in the forest alone with a mad warlock. Peter internally chastised his wolf, who Peter was certain felt contrite at the reminder. 

  
They got into Peter’s SUV, Hagrid climbing back into the backseat and Stiles carrying a bag of ‘mysterious druid shit’ as he called it. 

  
“So, Chris is your mate?” 

  
“Yes, fifteen years this spring.” 

  
“You guys meet at school, or some werewolf get together?” 

  
“No, I found him tied to a tree actually, his father's idea of training. I offered to cut him loose but he said that his father would know, so I kept him company or drove him crazy, depending on who is telling the story.” 

  
“Hang on, his dad left him tied to a tree?” 

“Hunter family.” 

Stiles let out a low whistle. “Yeah then that makes sense. So did you know when you saw him, like was it some cosmic revelation, this is my mate kind of thing?” 

  
Peter smiled, enjoying recounting the tale. “Oh hell, no. He was rude, obnoxious, and hot as hell. That man has the sexiest blue eyes when he’s angry. He knew who and what I was the moment I stepped into that clearing.” Peter sighed. “And you know what, he smiled, and said he would rip my throat out with his teeth, even if he was still tied to the damn tree.” 

  
“Sounds like love at first sight to me” Stiles laughed. 

  
“Once we both got over the ‘You hunter me wolf’ bullshit, we actually spent a lovely evening together. Once he’d managed to untie himself, we sat talking all night.” Peter looked over at Stiles who seemed caught up in the story, “I went home and told my Alpha who was also my older sister. I may have gushed that I had found the man of my wet dreams. And I have it on good authority Chris felt the same way” 

  
“Wow, this kind of sounds like some supernatural version of Romeo and Juliet, just with less dying,” Stiles muttered. 

  
“It really was. Chris and I kept bumping into each other and we both realised that if we stayed, we would not live to see a happy ending - so we ran away together.” 

“Holy shit!” 

“Yes, one of the smartest and craziest things we have ever done, and neither of us regrets it. It’s been hard, but we have each other, and I think I grow to love that man more each day.” 

  
“That’s, wow – damn, I’m seriously jealous,” Stiles said with feeling. His scent was still sweet and summery, but there was a touch of longing in his voice that Peter couldn’t miss. 

  
“Oh, I refuse to believe someone hasn’t snapped you up,’ Peter chanced a glance at Stiles. Truly he was a beautiful man, just the sort to catch his or Chris’s eye - they occasionally enjoyed adding a third, never anything serious or long term - but peeking at Stiles and sniffing delicately at his remarkable scent had Peter considering the option. 

  
  
  
  
Peter pulled the Landcruiser into the parking bay and got out, leading Stiles to the woods entrance. Stiles stopped at the wooden gate and gave Peter a shrewd look. “OK, here’s the deal. We’ve had a bad run with power-mad druids and other things that growl in the night. They want our tree and I’m not going to let that happen, right? I mean I'm not accusing you or your mate of anything unscrupulous, it’s just you have to be careful these days.” 

  
“Your tree?’ Peter hummed to himself, an idea of what Stiles meant forming. 

“We have a Nemeton in the center of the forest. She’s a good tree but you know how it is, someone’s always trying to get control and become the biggest bad out there,” Stiles sighed. 

“I understand. You act as the tree’s guardian?” 

  
“You could say that. My Mom was, and when she died it kind of passed on to me. I didn’t mind and it generally doesn’t take much effort. I go out to her once a week, and we have a chat and a gossip.” 

  
“You gossip with a Nemeton?” Peter could feel his eyebrows raising in disbelief. 

  
“Oh hell yes, trees are the biggest gossips. She’s always down to know what’s going on in town. I think she gets lonely out in the preserve, she will be super pumped that a Hale is back in the area.” Stiles continued, “My friend Scott was turned by a feral Alpha just into our senior year, fun times those were. He left to join a pack in Seattle, so I got left behind to become Buffy to Sunnydale Mark 2. This town, man.” Stiles let out a frustrated breath, 

“How remarkable. So you keep the town safe and take care of the Nemeton, all by yourself?” Peter remarked, looking at the young man anew, seeing the hidden strength that lay under the skin of the young druid. 

Stiles gave a shrug. “It's not really a hard job normally, but lately we’ve had a few more of the nasty type coming through.” Stiles gave Peter a considering look. “So you and your husband are planning on sticking around?” 

Peter looked over at Stiles. So much responsibility rested on those young shoulders, and he didn’t miss the slightly hopeful look that flashed in Stiles’s eyes. “We were. Would that be a problem?” 

Stiles shook his head and smiled. “Nah. Be nice to have a half competent Alpha about, take some of the heat off me. Like I said, the Tree will be really happy.” 

Stiles grabbed his bag from out of the car and smirked when Hagrid leapt out and huffed out a raspy growl, walking to the edge of the parking lot and barking imperiously for the two to follow. “Hagrid says he knows which tree your mate is hiding in, best we follow him.” 

Said dog then sat down and started to scratch his ear with a rear paw furiously, the unmistakable sound of breaking wind following the scratching. ”You know, you really do have a lot in common with Chris.” Peter wrinkled his nose at the smell. Then something struck Peter about what Stiles had just said. “Why is Chris in a tree?” 

Stiles’s laugh echoed through the woods. “I’m not going to spoil the surprise.” Peter could just hear Stiles whisper to the dog, “Man, it's going to be priceless.” The dog let out a deep huff, obviously agreeing with the young druid. 

The trees seemed to crowd in on them as they followed the path. Peter was certain he saw a slim aspen limb reach out and stroke Stiles as they walked past, and he heard the druid whisper softly. The boy was communing with the woods. It was impressive and made Peter feel a little nervous. 

Stiles looked back over his shoulder and Peter could see the man’s smirk in the moonlight. “Don’t fret man, the trees like you – well, as long as you don’t pee on them - that annoys them.” Stiles leveled a look at Hagrid, who looked blankly back while doing that exact thing. Yes, the wolfhound and Chris would get along really well. 

Peter stopped still. He could feel the familiar tingle at the base of his skull that came with his mate bond to Chris. It felt different - condensed, potent, but there was also a simmering anger. The emotions coming through the bond were almost on high speed - rage, followed by surprise, anger, and most unexpectedly, excitement. 

“I can’t believe I left him out here, and thought that you,” he pointed at Hagrid, “were my Chris.” Hagrid let out a long drawn out groan and stood, walking into the wood and refusing to be drawn into Peters castigation. 

“Well, that was rude,” Peter grumbled to himself as he watched Stiles follow the dog into the woods, and he most definitely did not watch the way the young man’s hips sashayed as he walked, or the fact the boy's jeans were ridiculously tight. Peter shook his head to clear it, and followed the druid and dog deeper into the woods. 

______________________ 

_Trees, Moon, Tree, Mate, move fast, stop – hide. Chris’s thoughts raced through his head. Unable to slow his mind, he was terrified when he realized what had happened, then he was pissed off, and now he was experiencing a strange euphoria as he moved at speed through the tree tops, leaping between limbs like a gymnast. This was goddam amazing. Just then a tantalizing scent hit him, and his nose twitched. Oh, he needed to find the source of that smell - and he needed to find it right now._

___________________________ 

Peter slowed when he saw the glade in front of them. The Nemeton stood at its centre and Peter blinked. How was the tree whole? It had been cut down well before he was born. 

“She’s something, right?” Stiles walked around the massive trunk, trailing long fingers on the bark. Peter was suddenly jealous of the tree. 

He looked up into the tree’s massive canopy. Glimpses of moonlight glinted through the leaves and the glade smelt like magic, the crisp freshness of a summer storm, overlaid with a wild, woodsy smell. Peter smiled - the glade and Stiles smelt alike. 

Peter noticed movement in the upper branches, and even with his wolvish sight had a hard time tracking the fast movement. He would be loath to admit later that he let out a less than manly shriek when a tiny grey mass leapt from a branch closest to him, claws out and teeth bared, ready to attack. The last thing he was expecting was to come nose to nose with a furious grey squirrel. 

Stiles collapsed against the tree laughing while Peter stared into the eyes of the enraged rodent. 

“Stiles, what do I do?” Peter hissed out of the corner of his mouth, 

“I don't know dude, I mean he's your husband. Be kind of rude for me to butt in.” Stiles doubled over with another gale of laughter. Peter looked into the squirrel's blue eyes – wait- blue eyes? 

Shit. 

The rodent had a death grip on Peter’s shirt, and its beady little eyes were narrowed in potent rodent rage. “Christopher?” The left eye of the squirrel twitched. “I can explain. I thought that lump of dog hair was you, I swear.” 

The squirrel let out a long series of chitters and squeaks, one small paw still clutching Peter’s shirt while the other was waving around. Peter tried to ignore the sniggering coming from the side, and focused on the furious squirrel. Gently so as not to spook his already agitated husband, Peter brought a hand up to touch the soft fur that covered Chris. “I know you're probably going to do something diabolical to me once you’re back to your old self darling, but my word you’re adorable like this.” 

Chris gave a tiny tilt of his furry head to acknowledge Peter’s remark, before his eyes zeroed in on Stiles. With lightning speed Chris leapt from Peter to Stiles and started to rub his fuzzy cheek against Stiles, the young man giggling as Chris rubbed his small body shamelessly against Stiles’s cheek and neck. 

“Your husband always this affectionate?” 

Peter narrowed his eyes and let a tiny huff. He wasn’t jealous, that was for fools and love-struck teenagers, not handsome, powerful Alpha wolves. OK fine - maybe he was a little jealous. The problem was, he wasn’t quite sure who he was jealous of. 

“Not normally, no,” he grumbled, unable to help shooting the smug looking squirrel a glare, before getting a hold of himself and reasoning that perhaps in Chris’s current predicament, he too was being swept up by Stiles’s alluring scent. It was a definite possibility, and a conversation with Stiles was probably in order once Chris was less, well. Squirrelly. 

Hagrid let out a series of rapid deep barks and Stiles frowned, “Looks like our Warlock headed that way, we should probably find this douchebag and deal with him.” Stiles cocked his head and reached up to scratch Chris “Get you turned back to your old self, yeah?” 

A loud chitter was Chris’s contribution to the conversation before he darted down, off Stiles and onto the wolfhound, one tiny paw holding onto the dog's wiry coat and the other pointing the direction they should go. 

“So, any reason why your mate was so friendly to me?” Stiles had quietly moved to walk alongside Peter as they made their way through the wooded path. Peter dallied with the idea of brushing Chris’s actions off, but he had a feeling the Stles would know any lie just as well as a wolfborn, so he decided on the blunt truth. 

“It’s your scent.” 

“My scent?” 

“Your scent is incredibly alluring to my wolf, and I’m sure it is to Chris right now as well.” Peter tried to keep his tone light and not hint at the want that Stiles’s scent had stirred in him and, from the looks of it, in Chris as well. 

“And is this a good or bad thing?” Stiles tone was carefully neutral, but Peter was a master at reading between the lines, and could sense the faint thread of hope in the question. 

"A good thing Stiles, trust me.” Peter gave a smile he hoped was his less creepy one, as Chris called it, and more his I only want to eat you in a good way smile. Stiles gave a short nod, and Peter didn’t miss the way the young man's cheeks pinked. 

A loud baying broke through the woods, Hagrid's deep howl turning to an angry snarl. Peter exchanged a worried look with Stiles. It sounded like Hagrid had found the warlock. As the dog let out another howl Peter shifted, running at full speed towards the sound. He could hear Stiles running as well, not far behind him. 

A barrier of sickly green surrounded the small glade, stopping Peter from joining the fray. Hagrid lunged, attacking the Warlock, but what surprised Peter the most was seeing Chris in the full throes of battle - leaping, scratching and biting furiously. 

Blue light crackled around both animals. Peter stood gaping as Stiles slid to a stop alongside of him. Chris had just finished a lunging attack at the warlock’s throat and had flung himself onto Hagrid's back, riding the dog like a mighty steed. “This is not what I was expecting to see,” Stiles said, eyes focused on the fight in the center of the glade. 

“Hello, captain obvious.” Peter muttered out of the side of his mouth, focused on the two animals battling the warlock. “Any idea why they’re glowing like that?” 

“No idea, but it looks cool, right!” Stiles winced when he saw Chris digging his claws into the warlock’s exposed groin and earning a strangled cry of pain. The mad mage hadn’t noticed his approach at first, too focused on throwing spells at the wolfhound, who dodged and rolled with skill. 

Stiles started singing under his breath, and Peter glared at him in disbelief. 

_“We come from the land of the ice and snow_

_From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow_

_The hammer of the gods”_

“Are you actually singing Led Zeppelin?” he snapped. 

“Aw come on. Give the little guy a red cloak and hammer and we have a teeny tiny Marvel superhero!” 

“I was thinking more Sir Didymus and Ambrosius,” Peter muttered, eyes searching the green barrier for a way in. 

“Dude you watched Labyrinth? I think I might be in love,” Stiles grinned. 

“You say that now,” Peter sighed with a little more feeling than he ought to, but he was relieved to see Stiles give a bright smile. 

“Dude once we get this shit sorted, I really can’t wait to get to know you and Chris better.” 

Peters smiled sharply “Well let's get this warlock dealt with then, so we can get right to that. Shall we?” 

Under the constant barrage of attacks from Chris and Hagrid, the warlock's barrier was starting to weaken. Peter’s keen sight could pick out the small holes that were starting to appear. He just needed one to be large enough to slip through. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stir and could feel the air pressure around him change, and a quick look showed him a faint purple glow around Stiles that was obviously his magic at work. Unlike the sickly, oily sensation of the warlock’s magic, Stiles’s felt like something warm and natural. It made his wolf want to roll around in it, soaking it up until he was scent drunk. It was heady and lovely, just like Stiles. 

Peter watched as the hole in the barrier grew larger. He stripped down with fluid efficiency and shifted, his wolf yipping with glee, excited and ready to help his mate deal with the threat before them. 

Peter could tell when Stiles’s magic reached its peak, and once the hole grew large enough, he threw himself through it. 

His paws hit the mossy ground with a thud and he let out a challenging howl. Hagrid’s voice joined the song, and Peter caught the flash of gray and felt a tug on his fur as Chris leaped onto his neck. Chris chittered excitedly small paws clinging tightly to Peter’s fur. 

The mating bond sung between them, even in Chris’s current furry condition he still smelled like mate and pack. Tiny paws gripped Peter’s ears, directing his next attack. Peter gave a wry snort - even as a pint size rodent, Chris was pushy. 

Hagrid had the warlock’s attention on him, leaving the magic user unaware of the wolf charging at his flank, but at the last moment the warlock spun as if sensing Peter’s attack, arm thrown back hurling a spell that held them in place. The warlock smirked, with the wolf and squirrel trapped he turned his attention back at Hagrid, throwing a blast of air at the wolfhound. It sent the dog crashing into a large stump, knocking him unconscious. 

Dark magic curled around Peter, cutting his attack off and holding him mid leap. Chris squeaked angrily, frustrated by the barrier that held him and Peter captive. 

“Well well, how perfect. I’ve caught myself a Hale Alpha and his pet hunter.” 

Peter snarled soundlessly, trapped in the warlock's spell, but out of the corner of his eye he could see Stiles moving, his face implacably grim. 

Stiles smirked and extended his hand. “Hammer Arboreal.” A cloud of emerald green vapor streamed out of Stiles’s fingers, coalescing into a club of woven vine and rose thorns. Stiles swung with unerring accuracy, the dull crack of it hitting the warlock’s skull making Peter wince. The warlock, stunned by the action, lost his focus on the spell he was using to hold Peter and Chris. 

Peter, feeling the moment it happened, bunched his muscles in readiness. Stiles swung his arboreal bat around again, knocking the warlock backwards. A satisfied smirk on his face, he turned to Peter and Chris and spoke a series of words that filled Peter with a primal fire, flames that warmed his soul, hot but not searing. His fur stood on end as the magic wove around he and Chris, golden fire bathing their fur. 

“Tilg an geasag na theine.Fighe gu math e; Fighe e nas àirde. 

fighe e a-nis de lasair deàrrsach.” Stiles’s voice was low and guttural, and by the time he finished the incantation both Peter and Chris were engulfed in a fiery shield. 

Peter leaped to attack when he felt the spell snap into place, jaws snapping at the warlock’s exposed throat and chest. He could see Chris clawing at the man's face and hair. 

The fight was bloody and short. Peter took satisfaction in the scene before him, the warlock curled in a shivering heap, bite and claw wounds bleeding profusely. He was whimpering in pain, but Peter couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy for him. Peter shifted back once the situation was under control and noticed a pretty blush pinking Stiles’s cheeks and the way he quickly averted his eyes, his blush growing darker. 

Looking back at the fallen warlock, Stiles expression hardened. “You know, I’m getting sick of dealing with assholes like you.” His eyes narrowed “But I’m going to let you go. You know why?” 

The warlock shook his shaggy blond head “No?” 

Stiles dropped down to his haunches in front of the man, bat still held loosely in one hand. “Well, I want you to warn all those other would-be bad guys of the week that there’s a Hale Alpha on these lands now, and next time someone causes trouble, he will end that trouble by burying his teeth in their throat.” Stiles leaned forward and bopped the warlock on the nose. “Got it?” 

The way the warlock nodded so rapidly his head may fall off had Peter snickering quietly. Stiles would make any pack with him as Emissary formidable - it was a thought that sat well with Peter. It was another thing to discuss with Chris once he was less squirrely. 

_____________________________ 

____________ 

Peter walked into the sitting room of the small townhouse he and Christopher shared to the sight of his husband sprawled out in a bowl of popcorn. 

“Christopher Argent, get your furry nuts out of that popcorn bowl; we have to eat from that, you know.” Peter was carrying a tray laden with fresh sandwiches and steaming mugs of hot chocolate, made to his grandmothers' recipe. 

Chris looked unrepentant as he lounged in the bowl, his furry arms spread out along the edge like a man sitting in a jacuzzi, One small furry hand holding a large piece of popcorn and nibbling it delicately. 

Hagrid was laying bandaged and sleeping on the room's other sofa, the dog deciding to throw his lot in with them. Stiles insisted that the dog wasn’t fey, but other than that he had no idea who or what the dog was. 

Stiles was sitting on the lounge, nose buried in a book while absently reaching under Chris for some popcorn, taking the chance to tickle the squirrel's belly. Chris didn’t seem to mind at all. 

Placing the tray down Peter couldn’t hide his smile. Chris looked happy and smelled content. The sneaky sneak was enjoying having Stiles fuss over him. His wolf pouted like a scolded puppy- Peter was cute too, wouldn’t the sexy druid fuss over him? Peter had to agree with his wolf, those long nimble fingers sent Peter’s brain to some interesting places. He was really going to need to talk to Christopher about this soon. 

“So, any closer to turning him back into his grumpy human self?” Peter sighed as he sat. Sure, werewolf healing and stamina was great but (not that he would ever admit to it) the close call with the warlock had taken its toll. God, but this sofa was comfortable. Combined with the sweet scents of Chris and Stiles, he could quiet happily drift off right here. 

“Everything I find says these types of spell generally wear off in a few days, so not much else to be done.” Stiles smiled and ran his fingers down Chris’s fuzzy belly. “I don’t think he’s in much distress, but you could probably tell better than I can.” 

Peter reached over and scratched Christopher's belly. “I agree with you, he seems quite happy. He might be a little frustrated with his current shape, but he’s not unduly stressed.” Letting out a sigh Peter sat back. 

“You know, it could be a Princess and the Frog thing. Give him a kiss on his little nose, and poof! Husband back.” Stiles’s brown eyes twinkled with mirth. 

Peter was struck by an insane idea, and he couldn’t help but voice it. 

“I may be his husband, but you’re the magical one. Why don’t you give it a try? He likes you, after all.” Chris sat up, letting out a series of chittering sounds, and Peter could sense the scolding he was getting through their bond. “Oh, hush you. You kept giving the boy acorns the whole time we walked out of the woods. And then, you handed him mistletoe…MISTLETOE, Christopher!” 

Chris went quiet, shrugged, and nibbled on another popcorn kernel. 

“OK. So like we...” Stiles stopped, looking panicked. “No, this isn’t going to work, right? But what if it did? Shit man...I mean…” Stiles’s voice tapered off and he gave Peter a pleading look. 

Peter reached over and took Stiles’s hand “it won’t be an issue, sweetheart. In fact if it works, then it’ll prove a hunch I have may be right.” 

Stiles looked down at their linked fingers. “What hunch?” 

With his other hand Peter gently brushed Stiles’s cheek, “That you are our missing piece, the heart of our little pack.” 

Stiles’s eyes grew wide and his breath caught. “Oh...OK, I can give it a try I guess.” 

Chris scrambled out of the bowl and sat between their clasped hands, placing a small paw atop their linked fingers. “Christopher agrees.” Peter felt his heart swelling with affection for his mate. 

Taking his hands from Peter’s, Stiles lifted Chris gently till they were eye to eye. “OK. A kiss on the nose, and if this doesn’t work, no harm no foul, right?” 

Peter watched intently as Stiles brushed a soft kiss against Chris’s fur. The sudden pop was loud like the release of air pressure, and it made Peter’s eyes water. When he focused again, Chris was sprawled naked half in Stiles’s lap with his bare rear end in the popcorn bowl. 

Chris let out a soft laugh. “Hi Stiles, nice to meet you.” He held out a hand, completely unashamed of his current nude state. 

Stiles’s scent bloomed under Chris’s smile and the soft, telltale notes of attraction filled the air. 

Peter watched and smiled to himself. Oh yes, this was going to work out perfectly. 

To be cont... 

**Author's Note:**

> The song Stiles sings is Immigrant song by Led Zeppelin and I shamelessly had this album playing while I wrote


End file.
